


Fortune Favors the Gold (Team)

by oleanderflowers



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Original Character/Original Character, Chorus Trilogy (Red vs. Blue), F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Team as Family, someone had to make characters for Gold Team and that someone is me, yeah I made OCs for Gold Team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28636980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oleanderflowers/pseuds/oleanderflowers
Summary: A simple supply mission goes wrong and Gold Team finds themselves a member short. They're all determined to get him back, though, and no one is going to stand in the way of Captain Grif and his rebels.Some things are constant in a fight for people's lives. Your team is your family, never leave someone behind, and always remember what you are fighting for.
Relationships: Antoine Bitters & Dexter Grif, Antoine Bitters & Original Characters, Antoine Bitters/Matthews, Dexter Grif & Matthews, Dexter Grif & Original Characters, Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons, Matthews & Original Characters, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. All that Glitters is Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to daydreamn019 for the title of the story (thank you!).
> 
> Haha this story was supposed to be only two parts but then it got too long--

Dexter Grif could really go for a snack and a nap right about now. Between Wash making the cadets train more because of his absence and fights breaking out all over from the newly unified Feds and News, he’s really fucking tired. Tucker’s still healing up in the infirmary from his stab wound (Wash probably should still be in there but instead had been asked to train the armies) and Simmons is categorizing shit in the armory. Maybe Grif can steal Donut's wine supply or—

“Captain Grif.”

Shit. He turns and comes helmet to helmet with General Kimball, standing there with her arms crossed. “I was hoping to run into you.”

“Is this about me missing training? Cause if that’s the case, then I have a good explanation… eh fuck it. I don’t,” Grif says, shrugging his shoulders.

Kimball sighs. “No, actually. I just got done having a meeting with Doyle and Carolina. We have a mission for you.”

“Seriously? Uh, we literally just unified two armies together! Can’t my team and I have some downtime?”

“There’s no downtime in war, Grif. We need Gold Team to go out to one of the Feds’ abandoned outposts and get anything you can. Supplies, Warthogs, Mongeese… Anything. Got that?” Kimball asks.

Grif tries to think up a solid excuse as to why he can’t go. “Why don’t you ask Caboose or Simmons? I’m sure Caboose would be overjoyed at a mission.”

“Captain Simmons is running the armory along with Donut and Lopez. Caboose is busy assisting Washington with training,” she quickly explains. “Come to the meeting room with me and we’ll give you the details. Then you can gather your team and head out.”

Grif groans, slumping his shoulders. “Fine, whatever. I’ll go. Let’s get this shit over with.” Hopefully he won’t have to listen to Kimball and Doyle argue for an hour. With a few more sighs, he follows her along the hallways and prepares himself for the mission briefing.

When they get to the room, he notices that Kimball moves to one side of a table while Doyle takes the other side. Carolina stands at the end of the table, her helmet placed down and Church projecting himself onto a map. He and Carolina are talking in low voices but stop when Grif and Kimball come in.

Doyle promptly introduces himself and goes to shake Grif’s hand as Carolina states, “Oh, Grif. It’s good you're joining us.” Great. Now he definitely can’t say no to the mission. 

“If I may explain in further detail,” Doyle begins, going back to his place and leaning over the map that Church is projecting on, “You are to go to Outpost Fifteen and locate some helpful supplies. That base was primarily used for transport, so there is no shortage of vehicles and other modes of transportation.”

Kimball interrupts, frowning. “And since the Feds were so keen on hoarding all of the vehicles to themselves, we have a bit of a shortage here. The more ways of transportation we have, the easier it is to get supplies to civilians and other outposts. Better us getting them than the mercs.”

“Right, well, you and your team will get as many of the vehicles as possible, fill them with supplies, and bring them back here.” Doyle traces a route from Armonia to the outpost as he speaks. 

“Can’t I take some other people as well?” Grif inquires, thinking mainly of bringing Simmons and Red Team along.

Church shakes his head, now projecting himself close to Grif. “Nope. Listen, we haven’t seen any sign of the mercs. They could be anywhere. It’d be easier for a smaller scaled mission than a huge one.”

“You are taking one of my soldiers, though,” says Doyle. “Lieutenant Patel will be joining you.”

Grif internally grimaces. The team is not going to like that. “Do we have to?”

Carolina’s glare tells him the answer.

“Fine. I’ll go get the team.” Grif rolls his eyes and turns, ignoring the ping of a message on his HUD showing that Church sent him mission plans. He has a feeling that it’s going to be a long day.

* * *

If Antoine Bitters is being honest with himself, he has to admit that he’d rather be on Gold Team than any other team. Sure, Grif is definitely not the best captain, though he shares somewhat of a similar mindframe as Bitters. Or at least, that’s what Grif insists.

Really, though, Gold Team is clearly the better team to be on. Green Team keeps losing members, Red Team’s captain is incapable of speaking to them, and Blue Team is… Well, Blue Team isn’t that bad, but Caboose keeps messing with machinery. Not that it really matters anymore, as now the rest of the Reds and Blues are here. Sure, Grif and the other three are still technically the NR’s captains, but they really don’t seem to care about whether someone’s Fed or New. It’s annoying.

Stupid Feds and all aside, the members of Gold Team are much more tolerable than the others. There’s Matthews, who may be annoying and a kiss-ass but is actually kinda cute. Not to mention Fenn, Stokes, Dominguez, Reyes, Kent, Tanner, and Liu. They’re okay teammates.

Gold Team may be the smallest of the four teams, but they don’t care. Grif doesn’t care either, so it works.

Still, everyone has a point where they will say no to even their commanding officer. This point comes when Grif gathers the team for a mission, explains everything in as little detail as possible, and suddenly drops, “Oh, yeah. We’re also taking a Fed with us cause none of you know the place.”

Kent breaks the silence first. “Hell to the no,” he chimes, pushing off from the wall he was leaning against.

“Yeah, you expect us to work with one of those assholes?” Stokes remarks, her arms crossed.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I don’t make the rules.” Grif holds up his hands in a sign of defeat. “If you really want, you can take it up with Carolina.”

Reyes leans their arm against Dominguez’s shoulder, examining their gauntlets. “Nope, we’re good. That doesn’t mean we can’t complain, though.”

“Try to look on the bright side! Maybe it’ll help to reduce some of the tension between us and the Feds,” Matthews points out.

Bitters scowls. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be friendly with those jerks.”

“Of course not! I’m just… trying to lighten the mood?”

“What Fed is coming with us?” Tanner asks, diverting everyone’s attention back to Grif.

“Lieutenant Patel, whoever that is. I would ask Donut and Sarge if they know ‘em, but we’re heading out in a few.”

Liu tilts her head. “A few hours?”

“A few minutes,” Grif classifies, shrugging. “Again, I don’t make the rules.”

There’s a collection of groans from the cadets. Fenn sighs, his helmet tilted up in exasperation. “Let’s get this over with.” 

“Exactly. I don’t want to be doing this as much as you guys.” Grif turns, about to leave the room they’re all gathered in. “Make sure to bring the extra snacks.”

As he leaves, Dominguez shrugs Reyes off of him and stands up straight. “Might as well make the best of this,” he says. Liu nods and puts on her helmet, patting Tanner’s shoulderplates. Most of the team heads out, probably making their way to the garage.

“Bitters! Let’s go get my extra ammo! I’ll share some with you,” offers Matthews. Bitters walks to his side and follows him out into the hallways. They reach their shared room and Matthews goes straight to his stuff, kneeling down and digging around until he pulls out some ammunition. He holds it out to Bitters, who shakes his head.

“Save it.” Bitters scoffs, thinking back to his prior experiences with Gold Team missions. “I have a feeling that our captain will need it more than us.” 

Someone clears their throat and Bitters looks up to see Kent leaning in the doorway. “I got the grenades,” he states dryly. “The rest of us are ready. Get your asses over to the Pelican. Grif’s flying us there so we don’t have to waste Warthogs.”

Matthews quickly stands up, fumbling with the ammo. He grabs his gun and sets the ammo in his pouch, rushing to the door. He and Bitters follow Kent to the hangar and are greeted by a Pelican with its back door open. The rest of the team is gathered in the ship, with Stokes blocking the doorway to where Grif is most likely preparing to drive.

“Everyone’s here!” Stokes calls before moving to a seat next to Fenn. Matthews sits down as the Pelican takes off, grabbing Bitters's arm to make sure he doesn’t fall as he goes towards his own seat. Bitters shoots him a thankful glance before strapping in, though it’s hidden by his helmet’s visor.

Bitters just then notices a figure with white armor sitting in the very back to the Pelican, closest to the drop doors. The person’s cycloptic visor is focused on the floor, her white and blue armor standing out against the grey of the ship. This must be Patel. None of the other News are interacting with her, and Bitters would rather keep it that way.

The team falls into small talk, continuing to ignore the Fed, and Reyes asks, “So, what’s the likelihood everything goes wrong and we die?” 

Tanner turns her head towards them, her helmet resting in her hands. “I’d say about a 50/50 chance. Either we get the vehicles and skedaddle back to base, or the mercs show up from their mini vacation and put bullets through our heads.”

“Damn,” is all Dominguez can say. “Personally, I’m leaning towards the first outcome.”

“We’re probably gonna die,” Bitters remarks with a shrug. “I mean, we’re the Gold Team, guys. The only thing we’re good for is infiltrating the mess hall at night and stealing stuff from the other teams.”

Fenn whistles. “Okay, downer. _I_ think we’re useful for more than stealing food. That’s just our Captain’s fault.”

“Captain Grif is just teaching us stealth skills!” Matthews argues.

Kent scoffs, leaning forward against the bars that double as seatbelts. “Yeah, cause that’ll come in handy when we steal a bunch of Warthogs and other stuff from some Fed Outpost.”

Lieutenant Patel finally speaks up, her voice low and sharp. She doesn’t sound too much older than them, though. “It’s not stealing if it’s ours,” she reasons, seemingly oblivious to the mighty glares and hostile body language from Gold Team.

“Yeah, used to be ours,” Liu snaps. “Until _you_ took it all. You Feds are just greedy assholes.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.” Patel turns to face away from everyone, shoulders slumped. “Fucking News,” she mutters under her breath, perhaps not realizing she was still speaking on everyone’s radio channel.

Kent bristles, almost standing up if it wasn’t for the bars. “Care to say that to my face, fucker?”

A clearing of one’s throat can be heard from the cockpit. “Can you all play nice for just a little bit?” Grif calls. “I’m trying to not fly us into the trees here.”

Stokes lets out a sigh, leaning back and clunking her helmet against the wall. “Okay, if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it.”

“Who are you, my mom?” Dominguez jokes, and Reyes lets out a chuckle before turning their head to Bitters.

“Hey, give us some snacks. I know you’ve got your own stockpile,” they command, holding out their hand towards him.

Now with the entire team staring at him, Bitters has no choice but to reach into his pouch and grab eight snack cakes. Only the smallest ones that taste horrible, though. He doesn’t care _that_ much about his team to let them have the good stuff. He distributes the snack cakes amongst his team, passing some to his sides and throwing three more across the ship for Stokes, Fenn, and Kent. He then digs around for one of the better snack cakes, taking it for himself.

Patel stays quiet in her corner, staring at seemingly nothing. She’s scuffing her boots against the floor, her assault rifle hanging loosely in her hands. Bitters doesn’t so much as glance at her and she pays no attention to the now helmetless News.

“So, any new stuff about the other teams being idiots?” Liu asks after a moment of eating in silence.

Fenn starts up, a smirk on his face. “Smith told me about his first training session with Agent Washington. He said the guy was so exasperated that he was about to walk out! And apparently Decker got into a fight with some random Fed that Washington had to break up. He was _so_ pissed.”

Dominguez shakes his head before inquiring, “Well, did ya hear anything about when Wash is gonna start training us with the Feds? Cause that’s going to suck.”

“Especially cause the Feds are gonna be total assholes to us,” Kent adds, his grey eyes narrowing as he looks over at Patel.

She finally turns her head their way, her fists clenched. “What is your problem? We’re not the bad guys! Stop talking about my friends and I like that.”

Kent glares at her, his pale face reflecting in her blue visor. Stokes kicks his foot, hissing, “What did I say? Stop picking fights.”

An awkward and tense silence falls over everyone, only punctuated by the noise of the engine and the scrape of armor against metal. The rest of the ride is spent in quiet conversation and small talk, and Bitters doesn’t pay Patel any attention.

With any luck, the mission will be finished up quickly. Luck is on Gold Team’s side, he hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this story! It's been stuck in my head for a very long time and even though I had the whole thing planned out, it's been hard to write. 
> 
> If you guys want I can put a guide to the members of Gold Team in the notes or on tumblr or somethin'. If not, you guys are just getting Gold Team memes.
> 
> (Hey BrittishSkits, if you're reading this, you're in in this story. See you in some upcoming chapters, friend!)
> 
> I promise to write some more Fed centric things soon, just give Patel some love because she is trying her best and is actually amazing.


	2. Fool's Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that luck was not on Gold Team's side after all.

“Get ready, we’re landing,” Grif informs them after a while, speaking through a yawn. With quite a lot of bumps, he lands the Pelican on the ground, shutting down the engine and standing up. He walks out of the cockpit and looks around at all of the others. “So, who’s ready?”

Bitters stuffs his helmet back onto his head and puts the bars up, getting to his feet. The others do the same, most with more energy, before the back door opens wide. Bitters shields his eyes from the bright sun reflecting in everyone’s visors as Grif sluggishly takes the lead. Patel goes to his side, staring out at the outpost in front of them.

“Outpost Fifteen,” she breathes. “I know this place better than anyone else. I was here from the moment I was old enough to be sent into battle.”

“No one cares,” Kent calls.

Grif shakes his head, putting a hand up to his helmet. “Alright, alright, everyone shut up. Patel’s gonna take us to the vehicle bay and then we’ll split up into groups to get as many supplies and vehicles as possible. If you see anything suspicious, just yell or some shit.”

A choir of agreements ring out before Grif and Patel lead the way down the ramp. The outpost isn’t very remarkable; just a few metal structures attached to each other. It is relatively large, though, and definitely looks like a place where a lot of supplies will be. The whole thing is nestled in between tall hills, built on a flat grassy area. Add that to its close proximity to Armonia, and it’s no wonder that Bitters had never known of this outpost until now.

Patel enters the closest structure, leading them through a steel grey hallway with her assault rifle at the ready. Grif trudges alongside her while Bitters and the rest of his team converse quietly, trailing behind them. Matthews keeps nervously fiddling with his Magnum, constantly looking around instead of talking with the others. Patel just continues to ignore them all, walking at a brisk pace.

“Damn, this place is big,” Reyes remarks, eliciting a nod from Liu.

Tanner glances at the blue lines along the wall as she walks. “The Feds definitely had the better outposts, that’s for sure.”

They keep walking, everyone’s boots clanging against the floor. The outpost seems to be empty as Patel finally stops in front of a doorway. “To the right is the storage room. Keep going straight and you’ll find the vehicle bay. We’ve got plenty of birds, ‘hogs, and Mongeese to take home.”

“Great. Okay, Stokes, you take Fenn, Liu, and Kent to load up on supplies. Dominguez, Reyes, and Tanner, you guys are on patrol duty. Bitters, Matthews, with me. I guess you too, Patel.” Grif shrugs as he speaks, and Bitters is surprised he actually has somewhat of a plan. 

They split off into their respective groups and Grif and Patel head towards the vehicle bay, Matthews and Bitters following close behind. The place they enter is huge; the ceiling is tall and domed and there’s a set of doors on the far side that are opened, revealing the outside. Warthogs, Mongeese, Pelicans, and Falcons are spread across the vehicle bay, parked in straight lines. Matthews breathes out a small “Woah” as his gaze sweeps over everything. Bitters shares some of his surprise. There are more vehicles here than he’s seen in multiple NR bases. 

“Do these need keys?” Bitters asks, stepping forward towards the row of Warthogs.

Patel nods, motioning towards the far left side of the room. “Some of the keys are in their respective vehicles and the rest are organized in some drawers.”

“Dude, Simmons would love the organizing part,” Grif starts, following Patel’s gaze to said drawers. “Anyways, why did you guys even leave this place if there’s so much stuff?”

The Fed shrugs, patting the side of one of the Warthogs. “We were all called to Armonia for the last battle. Then we were at the rebels’ HQ, then back to Armonia. It’s only been a few days.” She makes it over to the drawers and begins to open them.

Matthews studies the graphic organizers stapled to the drawers, showing what keys are where and what vehicles they go to. The ones for the ships are in adjacent drawers, up against the wall.

Grif leans against the wall, nudging one of the drawers with his foot. “So, how many of us can drive? I’ll be flying the Pelican back, so I might be able to fit one or two Warthogs with me.”

“Uh… Bitters can drive, and so can Stokes, Fenn, Tanner, and Dominguez. Reyes can fly one of the birds!” Matthews supplies, leaning down to pick up one of the keys.

Patel raises her head. “I can drive, too.”

“Great, then we can take… eight or so Warthogs. If Reyes and I both take two, that is. Maybe split it up with some Mongeese… Mongooses? Mongoosi? Whatever,” Grif rambles, shrugging his shoulders.

Bitters huffs and crosses his arms, tilting his head towards Patel. She gets the message and begins grabbing specific keys, setting them on top of the drawers. “There are numbers on the keys that correspond with the numbers on the vehicles,” she explains.

Matthews and Patel get to work, placing the keys in their vehicles and getting things prepared. Bitters helps by throwing keys at Matthews. Grif stays against the wall, claiming that he’s helping by “tracking the time”. A few solid minutes of mostly silence go by before their work is promptly interrupted by the loud static of one of the comm radios. It remains static for a moment before other noises can be heard; the bangs and cracks of guns and shouting. Bitters straightens up and puts a hand to the side of his helmet, turning up the volume in order to make out the shouting.

A louder voice, presumably the person who turned on their radio, quickly begins to yell. “ _ Captain! We’ve got hostiles closing in on us, east side of the building! _ ” The voice reveals itself to be Reyes, a sense of panic in their voice.

“Aw, shit. We’ll come to you. Stokes, get the others and meet us here,” Grif requests, pushing off the wall. This is the most worried Bitters has ever seen him. Maybe Grif really does care about them.

Stokes responds affirmatively and Grif turns towards the Warthogs. “We’re gonna drive by and pick you guys up, so just stay tight.”

“ _ Got it. Just try and get here soon, _ ” Reyes pleads, hissing a curse. It is hard to tell what’s happening from Bitters’s end, though he has a pretty good guess. “ _ Alright, I’m gonna turn off comms now, just to- _ ”

A muffled cry of pain cuts Reyes’s off and they shout, “ _ Fuck! Dominguez! _ ” Bitters can hear Tanner yelling in the background and Reyes suddenly falls quiet. 

“Guys! What happened?” Matthews sounds just as panicked as he grips his gun, one hand on his radio settings.

There’s a moment of silence before Reyes’s reply. “ _ Domi got hurt. You gotta get here now. I don’t know how much longer Tanner and I can hold these assholes off. _ ”

Stokes, Kent, Liu, and Fenn burst into the vehicle bay as Reyes switches their radio off. “What’s the plan?” Fenn demands.

“Okay, uh… Kent, Liu, and Matthews; you three go ahead and help them out. The rest of us will get Warthogs and drive by to get us all out of here. No time to get the Pelican.” Grif begins heading towards the prepared Warthogs, scoping out five of them.

Matthews quickly salutes and heads towards where Kent and Liu are, ready to start sprinting down the halls. Liu holds up a hand, her helmet tilted to the side slightly. “How do we know where we’re going?”

“East side. Follow the thermals on your helmet or something.”

That’s good enough of an answer for Matthews, as he dashes out the door. Kent whips around and sets out at a jog after him. Liu does the same, unclipping the DMR from her back as she runs. Bitters watches them go before walking over to one of the Warthogs. A quick glance around him confirms that the others are doing the same, gathering enough Warthogs to get the whole team home.

“What if we only take four?” Fenn inquires. “We’ll still have enough room for everyone and one of us could use the turret to help clear out the space pirates.”

Stokes nods, pausing next to the Warthog she is about to get into. “That’s a good point. I can man the gun on someone’s ‘hog.”

“Fine by me. Just get situated,” draws Grif as he starts up his Warthog. Bitters does the same, feeling the familiar rev of the engine. Patel announces that she’ll go in front to take the lead and Stokes begrudgingly climbs up to the gunner’s place on the back of her Warthog. 

Once everyone is ready, Patel guns it towards the open bay doors leading to outside. Stokes lets out a startled noise and grips the turret as the wheels skid across the ground. Grif follows suit, driving slower, and Fenn and Bitters follow. Patel’s the only one driving fast, so she’s forced to slow down to avoid leaving the others behind.

The radio turns back on and there’s more static before Tanner’s voice filters through. “ _ I have bad news and worse news, _ ” she reports, sounding breathless. Her words are punctuated by gunfire.

“ _ What’s the bad news? _ ” There’s Liu’s voice, the static stronger on her end.

“ _ Well, _ ” Tanner starts, “ _ Dominguez isn’t doing too good. _ ”

Bitters takes one hand off of the steering wheel, dryly asking, “And the worse news?”

“ _ Felix is here. _ ”

“What the fuck, man,” mutters Grif. “How come that asshole has to show up? We’re fucked.”

Kent curses and Matthews quickly turns on his radio. “ _ Liu, Kent, and I are almost there. We’re coming up on the eastside doors. _ ”

“ _ Going radio silent, _ ” Liu announces, and her comm cuts off. Matthews’s and Kent’s comms do the same. Bitters can make a pretty good guess that they’re going to get to Tanner first. 

Grif finally presses down on the pedal, causing his Warthog to lurch forward. He passes Patel before she matches his speed. Fenn shakes his head and speeds up, Bitters staying a few yards behind them. Sure, he wants to get to his friends too, but he doesn’t want to crash into the others.

The radios turn on once again and this time it’s only Matthews, Liu, and Kent’s comms that are open. There’s gunfire on their end, now, and Bitters thinks they’ve reached Reyes and the other two before Matthews proves him wrong.   
  
“ _ We’ve encountered hostiles! They came through the doors, _ ” he shouts. “ _ We started running back but they’re tailing us. Liu and I got seperated from Kent. _ ”

“Jesus, how many pirates are here? Are there more than before or something?” Fenn huffs, driving faster in exasperation. Bitters can’t exactly say if he’s right or not, as he’s only known of the space pirates’ existence for a few days, but still. It does seem there’s more than usual.

Patel brings their attention to up ahead, where multiple figures with black armor can be seen firing at the outpost. Bitters squints, barely making out the familiar grey and orange armor of a certain backstabbing mercenary. He’s also able to see glints of a wide silver visor, which he’s pretty sure belongs to Tanner.

Stokes lets out a battle cry as Patel drives straight towards the pirates, who look up in surprise and scramble to get out of the way. Stokes begins firing upon them and Grif swerves left towards where Tanner, Reyes, and Dominguez have taken cover. Fenn splits off to help Patel, ducking his head in an attempt to avoid any shots. He’s half trying to divert the pirates’ attention and half trying to help Patel.

Bitters pulls up alongside Grif, watching as Reyes and Tanner lift a bleeding Dominguez off of the ground. There’s blood pulsing from his chest and his helmet is off, revealing his tan face and the hair slicked against his head with sweat. There’s a sickly look to his face but he’s still alert, groaning when Reyes and Tanner put his helmet back on and place him down in Bitter’s Warthog.

Thanks to the seating arrangement, Dominguez’s head is resting on Bitters’s lap, which can’t be comfortable. Damn the Warthog for only having two seats up front and damn Dominguez for being tall. Reyes climbs up to the turret while Tanner does the same with Grif’s Warthog. 

“Okay, we gotta get the other three. Where the hell is Felix?” Grif demands, sweeping his gaze around the pirates as Tanner and Reyes join Stokes in gunning them down. Bitters shares his concern, because if Felix isn’t here, then he’s going after the others.

“We don’t know!” Fenn calls, jerking his Warthog around to try and get free from the pirates. He yelps as bullets ping off of his armor and steps on the pedal, lurching forward. “Come on, we gotta go!”

Bitters scowls at having to drive carefully so as to not injure Dominguez further as he follows Grif along the outside of the outpost. Patel stays in the back, taking care of the pirates that try to run after them. 

Tanner switches on her comm. “Guys, are you there? Get to the doors and get in!”

“ _ We have to find Kent and the doors are blocked, _ ” Liu responds. “ _ Matthews is behind me and we’re running back to where we last saw Kent, but we’re pretty sure we saw Felix. _ ”

Grif curses again and Bitters mutters, “Well that answers your question.”

“Okay, get to the way we came in. We’ll pick you up there. I’m gonna call Kent, tell him the same,” Grif settles on, exasperation and frustration evident in his voice.

Surprisingly, Kent picks up Grif’s call immediately. “ _ Kinda pinned here, sir, _ ” he snaps as a greeting. Grif promptly explains the plan and Kent grumbles before responding affirmative. “ _ I gotta deal with these assholes and then I can make a run for it. _ ”

That’s good enough for Grif, as he starts leading the way around the building and back towards the initial entrance. They get out of range of the remaining pirates quickly, without any injuries. Dominguez still isn’t doing well, though. His breaths are shallow and he makes no movements.

Liu and Kent both confirm that they’re coming up on the meeting point a few minutes later, and a small wave of relief passes through Bitters. Alas, as he and the others pull up to the doors, the others are rushing out. The Pelican is parked just nearby, but that would take too long to get onto.

Bitters doesn’t see the three, but as soon as Grif shouts that they’re clear, he presses on the gas and goes. Everyone’s focused on two things: getting away and keeping Dominguez alive. 

He can hear Liu chattering behind him, retelling her story, and is only glad that they all got out of there alive. The outpost fades into the distance behind them and a collective tension is released.

However, things go wrong in wartime. This comes to fruit when Grif takes role call and Bitters notices something is very much wrong.

“Patel, Stokes, Fenn, Kent, Liu, Tanner, Reyes, Dominguez, Bitters…” Each of the names receive some sort of reply until he reaches Matthews. There’s no reply to that.

“Matthews?” Grif repeats, and Bitters takes his eyes off the road to look behind him. 

There’s no Matthews. He’s gone.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops
> 
> Anyways, see how ironic the title is looking? Yeehaw. Also please be nice to Patel she is trying her best.


End file.
